


Moments Across a Lifetime

by Settiai



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Friends With Benefits, Lyrium Withdrawal, M/M, One Shot, Regret, The Black Emporium Exchange, Trapped In A Closet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-08
Updated: 2016-10-08
Packaged: 2018-08-17 06:08:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8133208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Settiai/pseuds/Settiai
Summary: Three moments. Three relationships. One lifetime.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shadow_lover](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadow_lover/gifts).



Not for the first time in the past five minutes or so, Cullen wondered what in the Void was going on.

"Try opening the door again," he said. If there was a hint of pleading in his voice, he thought that he could be forgiven just this once. All things considered, after all.

Surana huffed and made a show of rattling the handle of the small storage room they were in. For the third time in as many minutes, nothing happened. "It's still locked," Surana said dryly, glancing back at Cullen. "Just like it was the last two times that I tried."

Cullen groaned and leaned back against the shelves that lined the wall behind him, stacked high with linens.

It had been a perfectly normal evening up until a few minutes earlier. Cullen had been off duty for the past hour or so, and he'd only slipped out of his quarters long enough to get some more ink so that he could finish a reply to his sister's last letter. One that he'd been putting off writing for over a week now, if he was honest. The last thing he had expected was for Surana to grab him by the arm as he walked by, surprisingly strong despite his lithe frame, and all but shove him through the nearest door with a muttered "we need to talk." Especially since the door had shut behind them with an ominous click that had immediately caught both of their attentions. 

"Why did you shut the door?" Cullen asked, trying and mostly failing to keep his voice calm.

Surana glared at him over his shoulder. "How was I supposed to know it had a locking charm on it?" he asked. "I've used this closet a hundred times, and there's never been a locking charm on it." He paused for a moment before letting out a frustrated groan. "Fucking Anders. This is because of him, isn't it? The next time they bring him back, I'm going to punch him."

Cullen closed his eyes and carefully counted to ten. Then, to be on the safe side, he did it again before reopening them. "This cannot be happening."

Surana snorted. "It's not the end of the world," he said, shifting so that he was facing Cullen rather than keeping his back to him. There was less than a hand's width between them, and Cullen felt his face flush slightly at the realization. "Someone will find us eventually."

"That's what I'm afraid of," Cullen said, reaching up to rub the back of his neck.

There was a long pause.

"You're not the one who's going to get punished if we get caught in here," Surana muttered under his breath, the bitterness in his voice obvious even to Cullen.

Cullen scoffed, his mind flashing to the excruciatingly long week a few months earlier when the templar he shared a room with had been placed on half-rations for his lyrium. It had been the first time that he had questioned, even for a moment, the life he had chosen for himself. "It depends on who finds us."

Surana opened his mouth. Then he closed it with a bit of a grimace, obviously thinking of the same incident. It had very much been an open secret among both the mages and the templars. "I suppose that I can give you that much."

"Thank you," Cullen said dryly. He sighed. "Was there a reason you dragged me in here, Surana?"

A startled expression darted across Surana's face, there and gone so quickly that Cullen almost thought he had imagined in it in the dim light. It quickly shifted into a cocky grin that Cullen had learned not to trust within two days of arriving at the Circle.

"Can you not think of any reason I might want to talk to you in private?" Surana asked, raising his eyebrows. He took a step closer to Cullen, closing the almost nonexistent space between them.

Cullen took a step back. Or, more precisely, he tried to take a step back. All it did was cause his back to dig into the shelves behind him a bit more, an obvious reminder that he was in the loose trousers and tunic that he wore during his off-duty hours rather than his usual armor.

He felt oddly exposed without it.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Cullen said, grimacing as he stuttered a little over the first few words.

The smirk that Surana shot him didn't help at _all_ with helping him feel less awkward. Especially when he rolled his hips, sending Cullen a very vivid reminder of the lack of space between them.

"Are you sure about that?" Surana asked teasingly.

Cullen could feel his face heating again, and he honestly wasn't certain how much of it was embarrassment and how much of it was... well, something else entirely. He'd be lying if he said that the passing thought had never crossed his mind. There were only a handful of elves in the Circle, and a person would have to be blind not to notice Surana with his crimson hair and piercing laugh. He very much stood out among the other mages.

No, what was confusing was where this had come from in the first place. Surana had never shown much interest in him in the past, at least not that Cullen had noticed, and he liked to think that he wasn't completely oblivious to such things. Now Amell, he had been fairly blatant with his flirting and his ogling, but then again he'd done that with everyone, even...

Oh. _Oh._

Cullen stilled. "This is about Amell, isn't it?"

Surana hesitated, just slightly. If it hadn't been for their rather precarious positions, Cullen might not have even noticed it.

Cullen sighed. "It is, isn't it?"

For a long moment, Cullen thought that Surana wasn't going to reply. Then he nodded, slowly, his surety from earlier disappearing in a flash. He looked completely different from the cocky young man that Cullen was used to seeing, with a grin on his face and half the Tower wrapped around his little finger.

"Did his fail his Harrowing?" Surana asked quietly. "That's what everyone is assuming, since he disappeared, but—" He trailed off, not quite meeting Cullen's gaze.

Cullen resisted the urge to rub the back of his neck again, mostly because Surana still hadn't moved away from him. Instead, he just sighed again. "You know I'm not allowed to tell you that."

"Come on, Cullen," Surana protested, "I'm not asking for any details." He shifted again, although this time Cullen thought it was unintentional. Probably. It didn't change the fact that even the slight movement made Cullen's breath catch. "Everyone knows you're a decent man, for a templar. I'm not looking for anything more than a 'yes' or a 'no' from you."

"Surana—"

"Please?" Surana bit his lip, and for a moment he looked even younger than Cullen knew that he was. "One word, that's all I'm asking for."

He shouldn't say anything. Cullen knew damn well that there were many good reasons behind the rules he and his fellow templars were expected to follow. But what would it really hurt? It wouldn't change what had happened, after all.

Cullen let out a tired sigh. "Yes."

"Oh." Surana seemed to shrink in on himself for a moment, like he hadn't actually expected Cullen to answer his question. Then he shook his head, an odd light appearing in his eyes for a moment. "Well then. That's that, I guess."

He shifted again, and Cullen's couldn't help but let out a soft whimper.

Surana blinked in surprise, his eyes darting downward and then back up, a ghost of his usual cocky grin slowly spreading on his face. Cullen felt his face growing warm again, and this time there was no doubt in his mind that it was embarrassment causing it.

"Do you think you could move?" Cullen suggested, his voice a bit more breathless than he had intended.

Surana cocked his head. "Of course," he said, his grin only growing.

Cullen very quickly realized his mistake, and he rolled his eyes. "That's not what I meant, and you—"

His protest was cut off by Surana leaning up to press his lips against Cullen's.

Cullen froze.

It wasn't the first time that he had been kissed, although he would be the first to admit that he hadn't had as much experience as many of his fellow templar trainees. And it had been quite some time since it had last happened. Not since he had finished his training and been assigned to the Circle, all those months ago. 

He'd almost forgotten how pleasant it was, to be honest.

Surana's hands had slid down to rest on his sides, and Cullen couldn't help but kiss back after his surprise had worn off. His hips rolled slightly, almost of their own accord, and he couldn't help but moan as Surana deepened the kiss.

Cullen wasn't entirely certain how much time passed, but he made a quiet sound of protest when Surana finally pulled away.

Surana smirked at him, his eyes almost black. They seemed to glow somewhat in the dim light, and Cullen was pleased to see that Surana seemed to be at least breathing as heavily as him. He still wasn't certain what was happening, not entirely, but for the time being he wasn't protesting.

The next thing he knew, Surana's hands were fumbling with the ties to his trousers.

A part of him was tempted not to say anything, to simply let Surana take control and do whatever he wanted. Another part of him, a voice in his head that sounded suspiciously like one of his stricter teachers from his time in training, was vehemently pointing out how wrong it was for a templar to even consider bedding one of their charges.

And then there was the part of him that kept flashing back to Surana's face just a few minutes earlier, when he'd been asking about Amell.

"Stop," Cullen said, reluctantly reaching down to push Surana's hands away. "Surana, stop."

Surana looked up at him, a puzzled look on his face. "What?"

"We shouldn't be doing this," Cullen said, shaking his head.

Surana went still. "Because I'm an elf?" he asked, and the bitterness from earlier was back in his voice. "Or because I'm a mage?"

Cullen was already shaking his head, even before Surana had finished speaking. "Neither."

"Then why?" Surana asked, looking more and more confused with every passing moment.

Cullen was still trying to figure out a reply when the door behind them suddenly opened.

Light flooded the small room, and Cullen instinctively closed his eyes tightly. He felt Surana pull away, excuses already flying from his tongue.

Then Surana stopped talking abruptly and burst out laughing.

Cullen hesitantly opened his eyes, blinking once or twice as his eyes adjusted to the light. Then he let his gaze move toward the doorway, his mouth turning downward into a frown.

It was one of the other apprentices standing there, a dark-haired young man that Cullen was used to seeing in Surana's shadow. He couldn't for the life of him remember his name, though, at least not just then.

The apprentice's gaze flickered between Surana and Cullen, and he rolled his eyes. "Should I have left the door locked?" he asked.

Surana reached out and swatted him on the shoulder as he stepped out into the hallway. "Very funny, Jowan."

The apprentice – Jowan, Cullen assumed, although the name honestly wasn't ringing any bells – snorted. "I told them you were still studying when they came by the quarters and you weren't there," he said. "Come on, we need to get back before anyone else comes looking for you."

"You're a lifesaver," Surana said, lightly bumping his shoulder.

Jowan shook his head, an amused look on his face. "I know."

Cullen cleared his throat.

Surana winked at him. "I guess that I'll see you around, Cullen," he said teasingly. Then his face grew a bit more serious. "Thanks again. For telling me."

Even though he knew that it was a bad idea, Cullen couldn't help but smile. Just a little. "You're welcome."

Surana grinned at him before turning and hurrying down the hallway after Jowan, a slight swagger to his step that Cullen _knew_ had to be intentional.

Cullen watched him until he disappeared around a corner.

*

Cullen woke up with a gasp, jerking upwards in bed as his muddled brain attempted to remember when and where he was. Surana's face danced in his mind, memories of a few short months of stolen moments and hurried ministrations rushing through his thoughts, mixed in with whispered promises that all he needed to do was give in and he could have anything he desired.

It had been almost a decade since whatever it was that had been going on between them had ended, blood magic and demons and angry words that could never be taken back coming between them. Why in Andraste's name did the demons still wear that face when they came to him at night?

"Damn it," Cullen muttered under his breath, reaching up to run shaky fingers through his sweat-soaked hair.

Beside him on the bed, something – no, not something, _someone_ – stirred.

Cullen went still, barely even daring to breathe.

"Nightmare?" Fenris's familiar voice asked, rough with sleep.

Cullen closed his eyes for a moment, taking in a few deep breaths as he tried to calm his racing heart. Not for the first time in the past few weeks, he cursed himself as a fool. "Of a sort."

Fenris didn't pry. He never pried, which was something that Cullen was forever thankful for. He just made a grunt of understanding, the bed creaking slightly as he presumably turned to face Cullen.

Cullen tried not to let his surprise show as he opened his eyes and glanced in Fenris's direction, well aware that his vision was much better than Cullen's own in the dark. It wasn't the first time he had woken to find Fenris still beside him, but it _was_ somewhat of a rarity. He was usually up and gone before Cullen awoke, leaving nothing behind as a sign that he had even been there in the first place, already out and hard at work keeping Kirkwall from collapsing in on itself.

He couldn't blame him, not really. With the way things had been going in Kirkwall the past few years, Cullen barely had time to sleep himself. There wasn't time for indulgences, not with all of Thedas burning around them.

"You should try to get back to sleep," Fenris said. "Traveling by sea is unpleasant enough when you're not tired."

Cullen couldn't help but let out a chuckle at that, a few flashes from his trip from Fereldan to the Free Marches popping into his head. It had been an unpleasant journey, that much he remembered quite clearly. The others traveling with him had been quite amused by just how bad a sailor he had been.

Fenris raised his eyebrows, the gesture barely visible in the dim moonlight streaming in through the window. "Did I say something amusing?"

Cullen shook his head. "I was just thinking about my last sea voyage," he said. He could feel his brief bit of amusement fading as some of the other details came to mind, specifically the events that had led to him making the trip in the first place.

It had been almost a decade since then, and those memories still haunted him. He suspected they always would.

Fenris made a sound of acknowledgement, but he didn't say anything.

"Will you remain in Kirkwall?" Cullen asked abruptly, grimacing as soon as the words left his mouth. He'd been careful not to ask Fenris questions along those lines, not since Cassandra had made her request of him. He must have been more tired than he'd realized if he was slipping that much.

There was a long pause, and Cullen was just about to wave off the question when Fenris finally cleared his throat. "Perhaps," he said. "For a time."

Cullen smiled, just slightly, despite his best intentions. "Good," he said. "Between you and Aveline, it will be good knowing that I'm leaving the city in good hands." He gave a self-deprecating laugh. "In better hands than it's currently in, if I'm honest."

Fenris snorted but didn't comment.

They slipped back into silence, but it wasn't uncomfortable. That was one of the things that Cullen appreciated about his time with Fenris, whatever it was that was between them.

It wasn't love, of that much Cullen was certain. Friendship, perhaps? Or at least camaraderie? It was mostly physical, true, a chance for both of them to find a release from time to time. Still, it was more than a simple fuck, at least on Cullen's part. He had thought that Fenris had been Maker sent, when he'd first appeared back in Kirkwall a few months after disappearing along with Hawke, offering his sword to help keep the city from imploding in on itself. If he was honest, that opinion hadn't changed much in the almost two years that had passed since then.

Not that he was foolish enough to actually say as much to Fenris.

He didn't know much about Fenris's past, other than the rumors he had heard over the years, and he suspected that the elf knew almost as little about his own. It hadn't mattered, at first, during those desperate months as the city – and the world – burned around them. Cullen was willing to take any help that he could get. And later... well, later, Cullen had his own secrets to keep. Who was he to ask someone to share theirs?

"You didn't have to return to Kirkwall," Cullen said quietly. It wasn't the first time he'd said it, of course, but all things considered it might be the last. He was leaving in the morning, after all, with the Seeker.

Fenris didn't reply for a moment. "No," he agreed slowly, a questioning tone to his voice. He wasn't certain why Cullen was bringing it up, most likely. "I did not."

Cullen closed his eyes for a moment, Surana's face flashing in his mind again. He hadn't seen the man since that day in the Tower, the day he'd saved Cullen's life and Cullen had all but spat in his face. Just one of his many, many regrets.

Beside him, Fenris shifted closer to Cullen. He wasn't touching him, not quite, but he was close enough that Cullen was well aware of the lyrium etched in his skin. It seemed to almost call to him, a siren song that was becoming harder and harder to ignore.

Perhaps it was for the best that he was leaving Kirkwall. For many reasons.

"Did I ever thank you?" Cullen asked, well aware that the answer was "no." Or, at least, that he'd never actually said the words.

There was another long pause before Fenris replied. "Yes."

Fenris's reply was short and somewhat curt, but it was lightened somewhat as he rolled over to press his body against Cullen's, actions saying what his words did not. The lyrium hummed against Cullen's skin, a temptation in more ways than one, as Fenris's lips pressed against his in a forceful kiss.

Cullen closed his eyes and gave in, one last time.

*

"Cullen?"

The splitting headache that had been plaguing Cullen all day pounded like a drum in his head as he looked up from the stack of paperwork he'd been studying. His vision blurred in and out of focus, and it took longer than it should have for it to clear. For just a moment, as he looked at the figure standing uncertainly in the doorway, he thought that he saw Surana's red hair and quicksilver grin, sparks of magic flying from his fingertips. Or maybe it was Fenris, with his white hair and a cool smirk on his face, the ridiculously large greatsword that he favored towering over him from where it hung on his back.

It took everything Cullen had not to reach up and rub his eyes. Instead he blinked a few times, trying to make his muddled mind cooperate.

After another moment or so his sight cleared, and the visions from his past disappeared. It was Lavellan standing in front of him, his messy brown hair mussed even more than usual and a worried look on his face. "Cullen, are you alright?" he asked, taking a step closer to him. "Do you need me to get one of the healers?"

"I'm fine," Cullen replied instantly, the words all but automatic.

Lavellan crossed his arms in front of his chest, the look on his face making it very clear that he didn't believe a word of it.

Cullen reached up to rub the back of his neck. "Truly, love, I'm fine," he said. "I'm just tired."

If anything, the look on Lavellan's face grew even more disbelieving. He didn't say anything, though, not at first. Instead he took a deep breath, as if he was trying to gather his thoughts.

Cullen leaned forward a bit, bracing his legs against his desk. Not for the first time, he regretted his somewhat stubborn insistence to Josephine that a chair wasn't necessary. His back was aching from leaning over the desk all day, and a small part of him suspected that it probably wasn't helping his aching head all that much.

He closed his eyes for just a moment, trying to breathe through the pain.

"—len? Cullen, damn it, can you hear me?"

It took Cullen longer than it should have to realize that he was hunched forward over his desk, a wave of pain rushing through his entire body. Lavellan was standing just a hair's breadth away, his form tense as if he was trying to decide whether it would do more harm than good if he were to grab Cullen by the arm.

Cullen grimaced. "I'm fine," he said. Or, at least, he tried to say it. The words were distorted somewhat by a groan that he couldn't quite hold back.

Lavellan apparently took that as an excuse to make up his mind, slipping through Cullen's defenses to wrap his arms tightly around him. "Sure you are," he said dryly. "If you're fine, then Bull's celibate."

Even though he knew better, Cullen couldn't help but chuckle at that image. Then he grimaced as his body made it very clear that had been a very bad idea. "Don't make me laugh."

"Then stop trying to lie to me," Lavellan shot back, a hint of hurt in his voice that he couldn't quite hide.

Cullen blinked at that. "I'm not—"

"Stop talking if you're not going to tell the truth," Lavellan snapped, his eyes flashing. For just a moment it was the Inquisitor standing there, the man than Andraste Herself had chosen as Her herald. Cullen straightened up instinctively, despite his body's protests...

... and then the Inquisitor was gone, replaced by a Dalish elf with tired eyes and daggers hanging at his side. A man that Cullen was fairly certain he was falling in love with, even if he had yet to find the courage to say as much.

"Come on," Lavellan said, "you're going to bed."

Cullen shook his head. "I can't," he said. "There's too much that I need to—"

"Cullen," Lavellan said, his voice firm and each word enunciated clearly, "you are going to bed."

Part of him, a large part, wanted to argue. If it had been the Cullen of a decade ago, or three years ago, or even a year ago, maybe he would have.

He sighed.

Lavellan's arms tightened around him somewhat, a strength there that he normally didn't show. "Let me take care of you," he said quietly. "Please, Cullen. Just for tonight. You need to rest."

Cullen relaxed slightly into Lavellan's embrace, grimacing as another wave of pain – lighter than the ones earlier, but still not pleasant – made its way through his body. "Just for tonight."

"That's what I said," Lavellan said, a spark in his eyes that Cullen just _knew_ meant he'd be having this exact same argument tomorrow, and the next day, and the next day after that.

But as Lavellan leaned up to press a chaste kiss on his cheek, his lips cool as ice against Cullen's burning skin, he couldn't quite force himself to be upset about it.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me over on Tumblr. (http://settiai.tumblr.com/)


End file.
